Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

Please use the dropdown buttons to set your preferred options, or use the checkbox to accept the defaults.

'A gloriously sung collection … captures the tranquil pastoral mood of Christmas Eve. The recording could hardly be bettered' (The Penguin Guide ...'Polyphony is superb … the most completely recommendable new issue for Christmas I've found so far' (The Independent on Sunday)» More

Details

We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Young dawn of our eternal day;
We saw thine eyes break from the East,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw thee, and we blest the sight,
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.

I saw th’ obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow,
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below.
Well done, said I; But are you sure
Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?

No, no, your King’s not yet to seek
Where to repose his royal head;
See, see how soon his new-bloom’d cheek
’Twixt mother’s breasts is gone to bed!
Sweet choice, said we: no way but so,
Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow!

Welcome, to our wond’ring sight
Eternity shut up in a span!
Summer in winter, day in night!
Heaven in earth! and God in man!
Great little one, whose glorious birth
Lifts earth to Heav’n, stoops Heaven to earth.

To thee, meek Majesty, soft King
Of simple graces and sweet loves!
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves!
At last, in fire of thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice!

We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Young dawn of our eternal day;
We saw thine eyes break from the East,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw thee, and we blest the sight,
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.

I saw th’ obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow,
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below.
Well done, said I; But are you sure
Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?

No, no, your King’s not yet to seek
Where to repose his royal head;
See, see how soon his new-bloom’d cheek
’Twixt mother’s breasts is gone to bed!
Sweet choice, said we: no way but so,
Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow!

Welcome, to our wond’ring sight
Eternity shut up in a span!
Summer in winter, day in night!
Heaven in earth! and God in man!
Great little one, whose glorious birth
Lifts earth to Heav’n, stoops Heaven to earth.

To thee, meek Majesty, soft King
Of simple graces and sweet loves!
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves!
At last, in fire of thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice!